Over Medicated, Under Care, and Beyond Words

It's been a while since I've complained. I think I'm going to complain today.

Yes, surprise surprise, there is something that I'm not totally satisfied with, and, surprise surprise, it has to do with those lovely pills that I take two times a day. Oh wait, just kidding. I've been given MORE drugs. I pop pills thrice per day now. (Did I use "thrice" right? I don't care, it's staying.)

Here's how it all went down:

Me: I feel like I'm over-medicated.
Doctor: *look of total confusion*
Me: Like, I sleep 10 hours a day, and I'm still tired and I have zero energy. Zip. Nada. I can't function like this.
Doctor: Sometimes people over-sleep when they are depressed.
Me: Yeah, but my mood is fine. I'm just super sleepy. Like, SUPER sleepy.
Doctor: You are depressed.
Me: I'm really not. I know what depressed feels like, and this is not it.
Doctor: Here's some Prozac for your depression.
Me: *Screams, pulls out hair, and throws chair across the room*

Fine, that last part didn't happen. But that's what I felt like doing out of frustration. These doctors don't listen.  It's not like I'm speaking in code or asking them to read between the lines. I am point blank letting them know what's going on with me and how I think it should be fixed. Now, I know I'm not doctor, but I am the expert in myself. I know exactly how these drugs are affecting me.

Honestly, I believe that consumers of mental health services have a much better idea of what's going on with them than the doctors do. I mean, we spend 24 hours a day with ourselves. We know how we feel before the drugs and after the drugs. We know what we want, and more importantly, we know what we need. And then these doctors, because they have their fancy education and titles, spend 5 minutes half-listening to us try to sum up our entire mental state and think they are God's right hand man when it comes to fixing us. Bullshit.

Now let's fast forward. I comply. I take the Prozac as prescribed, but I still feel like shit. I feel slightly more fluffy and fuzzy, which, not gonna lie, is pretty nice, but still tired, almost paralyzed, in the morning.

Last Monday: Leave Message #1 for the doctor:

Last Tuesday: Leave Message #2 for the doctor

Last Wednesday: Leave Message #3 for the doctor

Last Thursday: FINALLY get a call back. From the nurse. The nurse who didn't have a freaking clue who I was but still has the balls to tell me that I should have talked to the doctor before switching up my meds. It's not like I left three messages and tried in person at my appointment to get this doctor to put down the prescription pad and listen. Listen!

So in conclusion, yes, I messed with my meds again before talking to my doctor. Shame on me. I now take a smaller dose at night so that I don't wake up drugged and foggy every morning. And you know what, I was right. I knew what I needed from day one, and only suffered by trying to wait to get the go-ahead from the doctor.

What's the message that I am unsuccessfully try to make in this post? It's not to fuck what your doctor says and adjust your meds daily as you feel necessary. It's to be a little, or a lot, more pushy than me. Sit that doctor down. Make them listen. Make them hear and comprehend before you walk out of their office with your head down and anger flaring.

I'm going to put that in to practice as I'm just about to head out to go to the doctor now. I'm prepared to get yelled at for self-medicating (or self-unmedicating), but I'm also preparing to dish out a little rage of my own. Wish me luck.